


Eaten By the Worms and Weird Fishes

by vulturer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Biology, M/M, Post-Sburb, quadrant flipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulturer/pseuds/vulturer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweeps pass in a combined world, and the heros have drifted apart. Gamzee and Eridan fill the emptiness with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This idea's been eating at me for a while, and it fit pretty well into [this kink meme prompt](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/8284.html?thread=11406684#t11406684).
> 
> Title is from [Weird Fishes/Arpeggi by Radiohead.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3DrL8pwu1k)

  
  
**Eaten By the Worms and Weird Fishes**   


_Part 1: Smoke_   


____________________________________________________

  


Eridan Ampora was tired.

The past several weeks had been relentless. He had been forced to pick up several extra shifts at work to help cover the cost of a broken fridge and his bike had been stolen while he was at the fish market, having grown sick of eating microwaved noodles. The thick metal chain had been cut straight through, the links lying helpless on the concrete, and he had been very close to screaming in the middle of the street at how fuckin' unfair it was when he got a call from one of his fellow Ph.D classmates informing him that head of the department had decided to schedule an impromptu discussion section at the end of the week. It was wednesday. The urge to scream resided and was replaced with a strong desire to curl up in a corner and die. Luckily, that urge had faded as he devoured a steaming plate of sauteed halibut (turns out Earth's sea creatures weren't all that terrible, a lighter compliment to Alternia's tough breeds), and reveled in the wonders of having a working fridge as he downed a glass of chilled tea. The world didn't seem quite as terrible anymore, but his whole self just felt exhausted. He stumbled through the next few days — somehow making it through the heated history discussion without tearing out his hair — and the weekend finally settled in an anticlimactic slump. He just wanted to sleep through to the next week and not think about a single thing.

He unlatched the large window in the dim apartment, opening the panes to stare out at the sparkling city lights and the bright glow of the full moons, and breathing softly through his nose. The air was fresh with the morning rain-shower and finally cool enough to breathe; it had been annoyingly hot and stifling recently and the Aquarius couldn't open the windows without suffocating for days. When he finally settled against the wide ledge in between the room and the sky, he released a deep sigh of relief. He had missed the breeze on his face.

He smacked a pack of American Spirits gently against his palm and took the protruding cigarette in his teeth, leaning over to grab the small metal lighter from the coffee table by the window. A couple of flicks later, a soft flame touched the end of the paper and Eridan inhaled deeply, the warm smoke trickling through his body like thick fog, and his chest fell with a heavy sigh as he breathed out into the crisp night air. He felt his nerves unwind from their tightly coiled springs and he remembered what calmness felt like.

It was quiet up here. He could still hear sirens and the rich rings of the clock tower, but they were echoed and stretched into a fluttering breath of the original sound, and they barely registered compared to the whisper of wind that came in through the window. There were only two places where Eridan felt safe with himself; down in the murky depths of the blended ocean, and up here, relaxing against the old windowsill, his stiff clawed feet propped up against the wall. Here he could think, he could study, he could talk and not feel utterly ignored because there would always someone there to listen, even if the other man wasn't currently in the room. He _would_ be. Every night he would come back and Eridan wouldn't be alone.

The glowing embers inched close to his slightly webbed claws and he stubbed the cigarette out in the little glass ashtray, tapping out another from the pack. As he lit the fresh stick, his ear twitched at the sound of a rattling doorknob and he exhaled a slow cloud, watching the door in his periphery. A tall figure fumbled around in the shadows for a moment, stretching his long feet, and then emerged into the pale moonlight, shucking off his ratty sweatshirt. He lazily sauntered up to the window and picked up the pack of cigarettes, tapping out one for himself.

"You shouldn't smoke, fish," Gamzee Makara drawled and leaned over to light his cigarette with the sea-dweller's. Eridan looked over the top of his glasses to pry into the troll's thoughts but was left grasping at air. Gamzee's eyes were cast down at the glowing tobacco and didn't connect as his own stick ignited. He simply blew a grey breath gently off to the side of Eridan's cheek and then unfurled his spine, shoulders slumped dispassionately. A cool autumn breeze ruffled his tangled hair and he leaned against the tall windowsill.

This thing, this quiet act had become a small ritual; Gamzee would come home from the tattoo shop after the sun had long since set, always fumbling with the faulty lock, and close the door softly. He always looked tired. Always kicked off his shoes carelessly, tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and then walked over to where Eridan was perched at the open window. Sometimes they would both stay there and watch the cars down below, sometimes they would move to the couch and just puff smoke in silence. Sometimes one would stand up, bending over to mush the short cigarette into the ashtray on the low table, and cross the apartment silently to enter the bedroom. The other would follow moments later.

Sometimes Eridan would take off his shirt when he smoked because he could pass the toxic particles through his body and expel the cloud through the gills on his torso. The smoke would drift out of the purplish slits like hot air out of little vents at the bottom of the ocean, churning as he breathed. It never failed to get a chuckle out of Gamzee — the whole act looked ridiculous and remarkably unsexy — but then sometimes his smile would fade and he would reach through the haze to touch Eridan's stomach. It was to reassure himself that his lover was still real because, in these moments, the violet-blood looked like a flickering ghost and Gamzee would remember that he had died.

 _WE ALL MOTHERFUCKING DIED_

 _every last one of us_

There was still a jagged scar on Eridan's abdomen and three white lines streaking across Gamzee's face; parting gifts from the session. Though restored back to life, everyone got to keep their wounds and perhaps, deep down, it was a good thing. It was a reminder of their sacrifices and their struggles (and it was a little uplifting to recall that, despite how frustratingly convoluted the game was, they still kicked ass and took names), but at the same time... it was also a reminder of their failures. Their betrayals. For the two purple bloods, failure was often the only thing that came to mind.

"Speak fer yerself," Eridan mumbled back at the admonition and exhaled a breath out the window. "Mr. Pack-a-Day."

"Doesn't choke me up like it does you," Gamzee replied, staring at the moons. "It's cloggin' up your airways, glubbrother."

"You say that every fuckin' time."

"Never stops being the motherfucking truth."

"Whatever," the former royal sighed and leaned his head back against the wooden molding. "Feels good, besides."

"Mmm," Gamzee hummed and flashed a few sharp teeth. "Shore does."

"Oh, glub off," he retorted, but his lips turned up a bit at the corner.

They do this because there is no other option. No other person to fill the role. They had both been drifting away from their core group, separating from the body like a slowly rotting limb pumped with anesthetics. Longer waits followed their sent texts, less calls got answered, and it seemed like more than half the time they logged on to chat with someone who saved the world with them, everyone was idle. It was gradual, hard to notice at first, but absolute. Sad, but normal. Inevitable, maybe.

However, one could not easily live in the new world alone, so they made a pact. Since their old feelings remained unreciprocated, they replaced those whom they desired with each other. It was just a band-aid on a bleeding gash, but most of the time it worked out okay. To an outsider (and especially to their friends), the balance would have likely seemed a bit fucked up, but nobody else had to know. They could flip quadrants, sliding from black to red to white, and it would always be their little secret. When they did talk to distanced friends, they could report that they were doing fine and the disclosure was mostly true. That was all that their contacts needed to hear.

"Had a chat with my main crabbro today," Gamzee said flatly and leaned over to tap out another fresh cigarette from the pack at his companion's feet. Eridan glanced up as he spoke but the indigo-blood's face was unreadable, even without a layer of that paint that he used to wear.

"What for?"

At this, the lanky troll sighed deeply, smoke rushing out in a turbulent cloud, and he finally met Eridan's stare. A silence hung thick in the air for a moment before that low, gravelly voice spoke slowly, "Swimsister and the psychic are gettin' human-hitched."

The effect was immediate. The organs inside of Eridan's chest suddenly felt tight and his mind was wiped blank except for the message, which settled inside him like cold lead. The words echoed like a whisper in a cave and he suddenly didn't understand anything. It was a struggle to return to the surface, the image churning and cycling through his head as if caught in rusted gears, but when he did, he threw up a laughable attempt at apathy and let out a breathy, "'Bout time."

Gamzee didn't buy it for a second. His droopy-eyed stare was fixed on the shaken troll, and his own head was clear, if slightly light. Eridan's face was turned toward the city but he could feel himself pinned beneath the other. He flinched when the voice spoke again. "He said they want me there. Want all us motherfuckers there."

"Great," Eridan forced out and crushed his cigarette on the windowsill. "It'll be one big fuckin' family reunion."

With that he swung his legs off of the ledge and stood up quickly, suddenly desperate for a distraction, but was stopped by a hand around his wrist.

"Let go."

"Fish, talk at me."

"Let go!"

"No."

"Gam, step the fuck off!" he shouted and spun back around, trying to free his wrist, face twisted with a dozen different emotions. He looked thoroughly run through with searing heartbreak and his arm shook underneath Gamzee's fingers.

"Babe, don't close up on a motherfucker," Gamzee said firmly and Eridan sucked in a breath.

"Step. _Off,"_ his throat ground out and there was another tug at Gamzee's tight grip.

"Eridan, don-" and his sober call was cut off by a spit in his face and the sea troll's arm was wrenched from his fingers. He had less than a second to deflect the fist aimed for his eye.

His forearm caught the blow, bare of all those sparkling and jeweled rings of times past, and he shoved the attacker back to prevent a second contact. Eridan stumbled backwards but caught himself on the edge of the couch to avoid a fall and coiled for another assault. Though calmness and logic had been well within reach moments ago, Gamzee felt his hold slip dangerously when he met the enraged violet irises of his fierce partner. He lifted his hand up to wipe the saliva off of his cheekbone and Eridan leaped forward with a harsh breath.

This time, Gamzee didn't try to avoid the streaking claws, but returned them. He grunted as knuckles drove into his stomach, but landed deep scratches on the seadweller's sternum, breath hitching at the brilliant purple hue.

 _so motherfucking pretty_

 _A ROYAL RIVER OF JEALOUS THINKSTREAMS_

 _coat my motherfucking fingers with your hatred_

The falter allowed Eridan to twist Gamzee around, inelegantly tripping over his taut legs. They stumbled a few steps before Eridan managed to lock his hands around Gamzee's horns, holding the troll facing away from him. He knew what this would do. He knew exactly how Gamzee would react to having his horns in the hands of an enemy, and Eridan shook his arms to speed up the process. His stomach twisted as he heard a snarl rip from the indigo-blood's voice.

Gamzee reached back and clawed at Eridan's forearms, tossing his head in an attempt to shake off the holder, but the ex-royal had gotten stronger over the sweeps. It took violently aggressive movements to dislodge the troll and, when he finally did, they had broken a lamp and toppled several stacks of books, the adventurous pages sprawled open on floor. The two fighters panted for breath and both looked murderous.

"You wanna tango, little prince?" Gamzee sneered and Eridan glared at him with eyes that Gamzee could have sworn looked liquid. The sight sunk in deep within his swirling brain and that was the first drop of poison; the tiniest hint of sympathy. The goat knew that he was done for. "Let's dance."

"Shut up!" the seadweller roared and lurched forward once again and Gamzee was ready. He caught the troll by the shoulders and slammed him into the floor, sending those black glasses flying. After he was sure the fiery troll was sufficiently dazed, he fisted his hands in the loose v-neck and hauled him back up, ripping holes in the black fabric with his sharp nails. He leaned in to breathe on the the sea troll's panting lips. They were flushed purple and slicked with wetness, and formed loose words around sharp teeth, "F-fuck... you... "

He pushed weakly at Gamzee's shoulders, trying to pull away from the tight hold on his shirt. He shook his head to clear the fog and, when Gamzee didn't let go, started to slip back into delirious fury, and swiped a claw at Gamzee's chest. The nails ripped through Gamzee's shirt and then caught on a bicep, trailing glistening lines to match the scratches on Eridan's own chest, eliciting a hiss from the incensed land dweller. Gamzee hurled him back again, their clawed feet twisting into the carpet, but Eridan wasn't finished. What ran between them in this moment was black as pitch, and he _needed it so badly._

This time, it was Gamzee's shirt that was fisted and pulled and he grunted when lips assailed his, all teeth and tongue. He snapped his jaw like a rabid dog when he felt a hand grip a horn again, but was more hungry for Eridan's power this time than savagely defensive. He curled his hands around Eridan's neck and the prince inhaled sharply, yanking Gamzee's head down to his kiss, leaning his weight backward to force them to move. They staggered and bumped into every piece of furniture on the way, holding each other captive, huffing sporadic breaths between terrible kisses. In the doorway of the bedroom, Eridan let go of Gamzee's shirt to lick mixed blood off of his knuckles and the land dweller growled, forcing himself not to crush the other's throat.

Eridan pulled Gamzee into the room by his horn and finally let go, which the indigo-blood mirrored by releasing his hands from the tense neck. He assumed it was meant to be a faintly pacific gesture, but he was wrong. His eyes shot wide open in surprise a second later as blunt curves of those back-sweeping, jagged horns slammed into his chest; he stumbled back, coughing for breath, and was dimly thankful that Eridan's horns weren't vertical like his own or else he would have been inescapably impaled. Trembling with energy, he lowered his own fire-colored weapons and swayed his head slowly, drunkenly signaling to Eridan that he was teetering on the edge of madness and would be pushed clear over the edge if Eridan didn't _back the fuck off._

The violet troll wiped some mottled spittle from the side of his mouth with a trembling hand. He stared into the crazed eyes of his adversary for a long moment before rocking his own head in compliance, but still looked ready to lunge again, that bright shock of purple hair swept messily to the side.

Gamzee straightened up and ran his sharp fingers through his hair, blowing out a heavy breath. The glubfucker was trying to draw out his darkness and he squeezed his eyes shut, cutting off as many senses as he could. He didn't slave and struggle for motherfucking _sweeps_ just to have some pissy ass motherfuck it all up.

 _choke it back_

 _SWALLOW DOWN THAT DEVIL'S SICK MIX_

 _it ain't motherfucking worth it_

Seconds ticked by and he felt the electricity slowly leave his nerves, focusing on the stinging on his chest instead. It helped clear the thorns and, though an undercurrent of obsidian energy ran through his skin, he started to feel a little more grey. He was drawn back out of his fugue by a heavy thump and he opened his eyes to find the sea troll fallen to his knees.

Gamzee watched as the frantic troll tried desperately to slow his heaving chest, failing utterly at stifling himself. He clutched his gym shorts in his claws and let out a strangled, wordless noise that shot through Gamzee like a white harpoon. The clear drops that Gamzee had seen in Eridan's eyes earlier were now trickling down his face, small purple streaks on flushed grey skin.

 _"AAARGH!"_ Eridan shouted and doubled over, hands tearing at his hair. _"Fuck!"_

Gamzee breathed slowly, feeling a wash of pity run through him and, not for the first time, reeled from the experience of not knowing how to feel about the fallen prince. No matter how many times this happened, no matter how many romantic shifts his brain and heart barreled through, it caught him by surprise _every motherfucking time._ He felt _everything_ for the haughty troll, _every motherfucking color._ It was _incredible._

"I'm sorry," Eridan said, his voice muffled by his thighs. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and repeated the sound, "I'm sorry."

"Babe, don't," Gamzee said sternly and the strips of his ruined shirt felt wet and cold. His sternum ached where Eridan's horns had connected and he felt weird mix of anger and pride flicker in his chest; his man was made of love and spitfire, and it was like a baited hook to a starving fish. Gamzee knew he would get speared if he got too close, but he would also get fed.

"I'm sorry," repeated the hunched figure and Gamzee snarled, annoyed that the idiot couldn't see that he didn't motherfucking care. He closed the gap in two broad steps and returned the favor that Eridan had given earlier; he curled his fingers underneath the jagged horns and hauled the troll to his feet, meeting him on the rise with a gentle kiss. Eridan eyes widened in shock and didn't know where to put his hands.

"You ain't got shit to be sorry for," Gamzee muttered and touched his lips back against Eridan's. "I'm your swinging punch bag," and he kissed him again, "and to be motherfucking frank," and again, "I can dig a good tussle," again, "especially with you," one more time, with a shark-tooth grin, "my sassy little hit fish."

Before Eridan could snap back, Gamzee kissed and kissed and kissed until the flustered troll finally kissed back. It started out sweet and soft, ridiculously chaste and comical when acted out by their bloody, ragged selves, but soon enough caliginous instincts worked their way back in. They went from licking each other's wounds to tearing at each other's stained clothes, searching for that itch that begged to be scratched. When Gamzee had his hands on Eridan's ass and those ringless fingers were fumbling with his jeans, the general consensus was that this needed to go _faster._

They pulled and pushed and soon enough, the bloodstained clothes were in a pile on the floor and they were falling into the messy sheets, hissing as fingers came in contact with the still-fresh cuts and bruises. The pain was an exquisite garnish on the heady rush that overcame both of them; Eridan moved his hands to the already aching bone bulges and Gamzee licked at the scratches on the other troll's chest.

It didn't take much time or effort to work themselves up into a urgent flurry, both slick with arousal, and when Eridan finally guided Gamzee's unsheathed bulge into his nook, all of his envy and bitterness dissolved into dust. Sometimes Eridan would lament what he could have had with his teenage obsessions, but whenever he and Gamzee stripped away their layers and lay down with each other, he blissfully forgot his past emptiness and thought only of the Capricorn. It was rather difficult to think of anyone else when they grappled on the sheets for control, always ending in sweat, scratches, and open mouths.

The movements weren't as kind this time around (still dripping with the ink of their clumsy black fight), but it was just as beautifully stimulating. Gamzee pinned Eridan's head against the mattress by his horns and he leaned down to kiss and bite at the troll's mouth. Eridan shoved and huffed angrily at the bigger troll, flustered at being held in place, but when he felt Gamzee's bulge move inside him, he forgot how to fight properly and let the indigo-blood calm him with deep kisses.

After moving and rutting against each other for several long, exquisitely stretched out minutes, the flood of pleasure snuck up on them both — already built up with the foreplay of tooth, horn, and claw — and they were incoherent. Eridan's nook pulsed around Gamzee's slender bulge and the panting trolls curled their clawed toes around the sheets, bending into each other as they edged closer and closer to oblivion. Gamzee released the jagged horns and buried his face in the crook of Eridan's neck, those lovely nails scrabbling at his back. He heard a stuttering groan ooze from the throat against his lips and he shoved himself away from the Aquarius before he passed the point of no return.

Gamzee pulled out of Eridan without warning, vision slightly tunneled, and leaned over the edge of the bed to snatch the pail from the floor. Eridan let out an enraged, guttural cry and his hands flew to his bulge, arching his back in frustration. He stared through half-lidded eyes as Gamzee shoved the pail in between his legs, leaning over his body, fingers deftly coaxing out release. Sweat dripped from Gamzee's jaw onto Eridan's chest and the sea dweller squirmed, biting out a short, "Gam..."

That did it for the indigo-blood and he snarled, baring his vicious teeth, eyes barely cracked open, and drops of his genetic material hit the pail. His spine alternated between stock-stillness and wracking shudders as he came into the pail, acutely aware through the rush of blood in his ears of Eridan's desperate noises, and he took particular pleasure in the unrestrained agony in denial on the prince's face. As he reveled in the electric feel that coursed through him, he leaned down to lick and suck at the congealing scratches on Eridan's chest and the violet-troll lost it.

Still drunk with climax, Gamzee hooked his hand around the back of Eridan's neck and pulled up. Eridan whined and scrambled up to lean over the pail in between them, the cold metal biting into their thighs. They knocked and slid their horns against each other, Gamzee coming down from his high and Eridan flying up. The prince fingered his nook feverishly and his breath hitched when Gamzee caressed the back of his thigh. He was _so fucking close._

"Come for me, king," the Capricorn crooned gruffly, pressing his lips against the graceful fin behind Eridan's cheek, and then back to his ear. "Spill that wicked sickness into mine, I need your motherfucking salt."

The sound that slid out of Eridan's throat was beautiful, pained and soft, and Gamzee rubbed his horn against the other's. Eridan closed up briefly, silent as he broke, and then all of his air and need burst forth in a rasping cry, trailing off into a throaty moan. Gamzee closed his eyes and listened, running his dry claw through the prince's damp hair, and smiled at the thought of how motherfucking lucky he was.

____________________

They both woke up the next morning groaning in pain, stiffness, and exhaustion. Eridan yanked the offending alarm clock's cord out of the socket and slid out of bed, graceful as a sack of rocks. He heaved himself upright and shuffled across the carpet feeling like his body was made of thick cotton spun with needles. He distantly noticed the rustle of sheets and the taller troll followed him into the bathroom.

"Oh, cod," he breathed as the mirror reflected the devastating aftermath. Gamzee rubbed his swollen eyes awake and, when he registered the strange looking figures staring back at him, he snorted helplessly. They both looked as if they had been shoved through a wood-chipper and then hastily sewn back together, and the goat couldn't help but laugh.

"What am I gonna say at work?" Eridan groaned and ran his fingers through his matted hair. Gamzee leaned down to kiss at his neck.

"Tell those motherfuckers your fine ass up and fell down some stairs, or something."

"Again?" the sea dweller muttered and scowled at their shredded arms.

"It keeps happening," the goat said against his skin and his grin was vicious. Eridan sighed heavily, but his face relaxed and he reached up to flick at Gamzee's forehead.

"Oh, clam it."


	2. Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to make this three parts because it works out a little better that way. Enjoy!

**Eaten By the Worms and Weird Fishes**  


 _Part 2: Paint_

____________________________________________________

  


It was just like Gamzee had said; four days after the wedding bomb had been dropped, there was an elegant, immaculate envelope in Eridan's PO Box with soft, handwritten script spelling out his name in Alternian. It rested innocently on top of the junk mail, beautiful and pale next to the garish ads. Eridan stared at the eggshell paper, wondering whether he should take it and gently pry it open with a sharp nail, or rip it to pieces without looking. Both seemed equally as difficult, and so he just grabbed the pile and tossed the junk into the recycling can outside. The envelope felt so thick in his tense hand, heavy with the collected weight of twelve sweeps' history. It was a lead weight in his claw up until the moment he tossed it on the kitchen counter, and even then he still felt burdened.

Another envelope soon joined it, identical except for the decorative ink, and they both sat on the kitchen counter unopened for a week. They were intrusive and bright; it seemed as if they were visible from every vantage in the small apartment, and Gamzee tried to block them from Eridan's sight whenever they were home together. Whenever he saw the sea troll staring with glazed eyes at the swirling letters, he would pull Eridan away or nuzzle his cheek and the prince would be distracted long enough to forget about the envelopes.

And Eridan really did try his best to ignore them. One afternoon after class, he had raided the university's library and came home with an armful of massive, yellowing tomes and a brand new notebook. Luckily, it had been Gamzee's day off and he was loosely sketching to music when he heard the heavy thump against the door. He had opened it to find the bookworm looking rather flustered and he laughed as he reached down to relieve the poor man of his burden. The prince didn't even glance at the counter where the letters sat and Gamzee kept an eye on him, hoping it would stay that way. For the several days following, it mostly did.

To call Eridan distracted would be doing a disservice to the word; the prince sat hunched over the old wooden desk in the living room, surrounded on all sides by history books and hastily written post-it notes, scribbling furiously into his notebook up into early hours in the morning. His usually consistent sleep schedule dwindled into a few hours here and there, punctuated by lecture classes, work, showers, and food. He likely would have forgone any sleep at all had it not been for Gamzee's intervention.

"Come to bed, babe," the tall troll whispered into Eridan's ear, the hour long past midnight, and he rubbed his hands into the troll's tight shoulders. "Gonna run yourself into the motherfucking ground."

"But—"

"No buts," and Gamzee pulled Eridan out of the desk, running his claw through the multicolored hair, ghosting over a fin. "You're lost, fish. Come let a brother find you again."

Eridan closed his eyes and his head fell forward onto Gamzee's chest, a heavy and exhausted sigh rushing out of his system.

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

"I'm so fuckin' tired, Gam."

"I know. Me too," Gamzee crooned and kissed the prince's hair. "Drop all that noise like it's burning. The bed's empty without you."

"Cheesy."

"You love it."

"Mmrgh."

The following day saw Eridan just as possessed (albeit a tad more rejuvenated), and so Gamzee decided that it was time to tear into the source of fear once and for all. With a wave to his coworkers, he clocked out at ten and strolled out into the chilly night. A breeze ruffled his hair as he started his motorcycle, the deep engine rumbling underneath his hands. The cold bit into his skin as he zoomed off, but it was a welcome sting. A refreshing one.

He made one stop on his way home at a little hole-in-the-wall trinket shop owned by a middling blooded troll that he had gotten to know over a few sweeps. The guy always stocked his favorite cigarettes and sometimes got a hold of things that were difficult to get state-side, sometimes took orders for things when standard shipping was too damn slow. Which was just what Gamzee had requested for tonight.

He returned to find the prince nearly nearly kissing a massive book, torn pieces of a sticky note stuck to his claw in case he happened upon a striking passage. The troll's back was hunched and his fingers scratched along the pages, tracking his progress. Eridan's devotion to personal hygiene and neatness had apparently vacated the premises. He repeatedly, absentmindedly pushed back the messy locks that drooped down into his eyes, sweeping his fingers back without a thought. When Gamzee drew closer, he picked up on a faint aroma of smoke and an even fainter one of seaweed. It meant Eridan definitely needed a bath, but to Gamzee the scent was pleasant and real. Much more alluring than the overpriced cologne that Eridan sometimes bought and wore smugly. Uselessly. This day old, natural scent almost reminded him of his old hive that had looked out over calm water. That was something he would always miss.

He tossed the two white envelopes onto Eridan's book and the prince jumped, whipping around to finally acknowledge his flat-mate. He looked different, eyes sunken and tired even as wide as they were now, and his hair was mussed and wild. The strands curled around his horns instead of lying stylishly smoothed between them, and his skin looked dry and dull with lack of sleep, except for a slight coloring in his face.

"Wha..." he started and turned back to look at the envelopes. His look slowly went from shock to pained and then finally settled on defeated.

"Not gonna let you put it off anymore," Gamzee muttered and Eridan slumped back into the chair.

"Fine," he growled and crossed his arms. "Just get it over with."

"First things first," Gamzee said vaguely and clunked down a large, ornate glass bottle full of dark liquid with a decorative label written exclusively in Alternian. Eridan blinked dumbly for a moment and then spun around in his chair a second time, his expression fully returned to surprise.

"What the h..." he spluttered and grabbed the bottle, scrutinizing the label. "How did you... this is fuckin' import!"

"Connections," the goat replied vaguely as he tapped out a cigarette loosely, fishing in his back pocket for a lighter.

"Holy ship, you're a fuckin' saint. Gam. Oh, fuck yes."

"Do the honors?" Gamzee said with a grin and walked to the kitchen to pull out two heavy glasses, nice ones. Old, but without a single chip. Eridan followed, cracking off the wax seal with his nails, still staring at the aesthetic label in disbelief. "S'your favorite, yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck, Gam, damn right it is. You're a _sorcerer."_

"Thought you didn't believe in a thing as magic."

"I do now."

The dark spirits sloshed into the glass and the smell of ginger and burning pine wafted up from the liquid. Eridan groaned in pleased anticipation and filled Gamzee's glass with half-lidded eyes. Gamzee watched him pour and he let out a slow, smoky breath, stubbing out the cigarette on a porcelain dish by the sink.

"I owe you. I owe you Gam, holy fuck, I haven't had this shit in too long a while."

"Just read your invite, that's the bare deal."

"Done, done. To the Mother," and he held up his glass, his eyes rich with lust. Gamzee clinked the glass gently and raised it, catching the kitchen light briefly, deep amber tones flashing within the drink.

"To a motherfuckin' shitshow."

____________________

"Okay. Okay, you piece a shit paper, imma open you right up," the drunken ex-prince muttered to himself as he picked up the invitation from its place on his research. He threw the other envelope at Gamzee, who sat sprawled on the couch with his legs propped up on a low table, arms outstretched, head lolled back and blowing smoke rings. The invitation struck his chest and fell to the side, and he made no move to retrieve it. It was identical to Eridan's, and Gamzee wasn't the one that needed to face the challenge.

Three glasses deep, Eridan was unshackled. He no longer held the eggshell object as if it were a fragile thing; his nails dug creases into the paper and he looked so close to shredding it instead of opening it. It wasn't really an iron ball chained to his ankle anymore; it was an obstacle, just an expensive remnant of a tree that he needed to overcome. That was all. Just a speed bump. A mountain of a speed bump, sure, but at least he had a guide.

"All right. Lesse your innards," he snarled and dragged a claw through the seal as he stumbled back to the couch, back to the liquor, back to Gamzee. As he collapsed into the cushions, a hand skimmed the back of his neck. He paused.

"Follow through, fish. Deal's a deal."

"I know that," he snapped and took another stinging swig of the luscious spirits. "I'm gettin' there. Why don't ya read yours?"

"Don't have a need to. The words are same as yours. Can't read monkey-scratch anyway."

"Tha's a load a hoofbeast shit an you know it."

"Mmm," Gamzee hummed with a smile. Eridan smacked his chest with the paper.

"Fine, whatever. Just... gimme a minute, all right?" Eridan huffed and turned the torn envelope over in his hands. It spun one, two, three times before he reached for his glass again, knocked the rest back in one go, and ripped the invitation out from its shell. As he unfolded it, a hollow laugh puffed out of his chest. The letter was beautiful.

He enunciated every word carefully, methodically, as if he were afraid that his drunken slurring would somehow mar the loveliness of it. Gamzee leaned to pour out another two glasses and listened with rapt attention straight through to the end. Eridan was silent after he finished. Patches of words tumbled in his head; _momentous occasion... cordially invited... High Psionic Sollux Captor... union of traditions... Her Consular Benevolence Feferi Peixes..._

"What do I do," Eridan breathed and the paper shook slightly in his hands. His gills flared beneath his soft shirt as he sucked in shallow breaths. "I... what do I do..."

"You go," Gamzee said firmly and dragged his nails up Eridan's spine. The prince shuddered and set the letter on the table, softly, before dropping his head in his hands.

"I can't."

"You have to."

"I _can't."_

"You want to atone for the holes you burned? Swallow the shit that ails and show your motherfucking face."

"Gam, I-"

"You're not alone, brother," he interrupted and reached forward to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray. "I got me a shiny VIP sticker too."

Eridan looked up and wiped at his eyes roughly. As he adjusted his glasses, Gamzee held out a hand, his pointer and middle fingers forming a _V._ A funny breath rushed out of Eridan and he shook his head.

"Okay. I'll go, yeah, I'll go," he mumbled and completed the diamond, hiding his scrunched face behind his other hand.

 _"We'll_ go."

"We'll go. We'll go, right. Fuck. We'll go."

"Together."

"Stop... _sayin'_ it, I know, we'll go together," he stuttered out and in spite of everything, in spite of his fear, in spite of the self-loathing that bubbled up in his chest, a smile cracked through.

"We'll be the handsomest fuckin' pair of killers at the ball."

"Fuck you, that is not even the least bit funny," Eridan attempted to snarl, but the effect was lost in his laughter.

"I dunno, looks like."

"I'm drunk. I'm laughin' cause I'm drunk. Asshole."

Gamzee hummed in approval and knocked his horns against Eridan's. They sat leaning against each other in silence for a moment, only broken by faint sniffles and soft breaths and a gentle breeze coming in through the open window. They stared down at the fingers that had formed the diamond, which were curled up on their knees. Eridan took a deep breath.

"Not near drunk enough," he whispered and reached over to take his glass and Gamzee did the same. They clinked glasses, lifted them in the air, and then drank. The liquid scorched a trail down Eridan's throat and he prayed that it would burn away his troubles. Deep down, he knew that it wouldn't, not even a little bit, but for the present moment... It was a temporary bliss.

They kept at it until there was less than a fifth of the bottle left and they were both thoroughly shitfaced. The wedding was all but completely put out of their minds and they focused on better things like the moons, like the wind, like each other's hands. Each other's lips.

Gamzee had eventually worked Eridan out of his shirt and, after dragging out his cardboard box full of bottles of tempera, was painting colors and scenes on Eridan's skin. Eridan swayed and his breath hitched as the pointed nails dragged lines across his stomach, careful not to nick a gill. He couldn't see what was being drawn, but he watched Gamzee's face and fingers with half-lidded eyes as the indigo-blood worked. Ever few minutes, when Gamzee ran over a _spot,_ Eridan would rake his claws through Gamzee's hair, scratching the scalp at the base of those spindling horns lightly.

"Talk at me about Aquarius," Gamzee said slowly and smeared a thick stroke of coral pink on Eridan's hip; a curling tail of a seahorse.

"W-what? Eridan asked shortly, processing the request. "Thought you di'nt care fer human myths."

"Didn't," Gamzee replied somewhat darkly and then wiped the excess color on his jeans. "'Til last week. I don't need to be all schoolfed about all their little gods, but I do feel a need to know why I up and inked your sign on skin that wasn't yours."

Eridan was silent for a moment and Gamzee remained kneeling on the ground, eyes transfixed on the paint strokes that touched Eridan's jagged abdominal scar. The moment Eridan started speaking, he dipped his fingers back in the colors poured out onto paper plates and proceeded to make a mural.

"It's... a constellation. Was," Eridan explained and drew in a breath when Gamzee dotted yellow stars onto his chest, the paint cold and wet. "It's not there anymore since the universes collided and suchlike. Aquarius was a water bearer."

A sweep of blue slid along his ribs.

"He dumped out a ocean that flooded Earth," violent waves crashed into Eridan's pelvic bones, "and the water flowed downwards to... to Pisces..."

Magenta formed a graceful fish, fins fluttering out like petals.

"And mine?"

"Capricorn. A sea goat."

"No shit," Gamzee huffed and coated his own arms with deep purple, shaped into a figure that almost looked like his late lusus. Eridan stared down at the kneeling troll and tossed his glasses onto the table before digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"Sadalsuud," he spat and laughed humorlessly.

"Come again?"

"The brightest star, it's... 'nother stupid human lie, I don't... oh cod, I hated it, I _hated_ it, cause it didn't make a fuckin' lick a sense, but it's.... I'm such an asshole. So fuckin' blind."

Gamzee surged up and knocked Eridan's hands away before dragging a line of mottled white across his forehead, then down his nose, then again and again until the upper half of his face was streaked with messy lines that formed a sunburst.

"There. There's your... sandalshed, or whatever the fuck it was," Gamzee said with a sharp grin.

"You got shit in my hair."

The painter laughed and dragged his coated palms down his own face, wiping a blur of colors across the entire surface, eyes mischievous and dark beneath the mask.

"It'll wash right out," he said softly with a smile and stepped back to admire his work. Eridan stared at him, drunk with liquor and pleasure, drunk with terror and ecstasy, just so fucking _drunk._

"It better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadalsuud is the brightest star in the constellation Aquarius. The name translates to "luckiest of the lucky."


End file.
